


Birthday

by SippingPlotting



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SippingPlotting/pseuds/SippingPlotting
Summary: Sidebar notes on Thomas's birthday,1942, since I feel guilty for forgetting to bake him a cake.(Once_More_With_Feeling mentioned the date....)





	1. Chapter 1

-  
-  
-  
“What'd you do, then?”  
Daisy asked it of Jimmy, looking him over as he tried to slink past with a guilty look.  
Not his usual 'cock of the walk' strut as he created his own parade in the big house hallway. 

No, this was a furtive thing.  
“What'd you do?”  
Hands on her hips, then, giving him a bit of a glare. If he'd misbehaved, she'd kill him and fry his guts for fritters, she would.

“Nothing,” he stuttered, looking embarrassed.  
The cook narrowed her eyes, as though looking into his head for the truth of it.  
“Nothing,” he insisted, trying for bravado, but falling somewhat short. 

 

Truly at times Daisy could see right through him, no Ouija board needed,  
scary woman.

“I was up in the nursery playing,” he sidestepped.  
He'd been up there playing with Ann's toddler, while they prepared for guests, Daisy assumed.  
(Ann was married, or she'd be warning the woman. 'He's not for you. He's not a lady's man.'  
But since she WAS married, there was no matter, and Jimmy, in all his ambivalence, could fend for himself.)

 

Besides, the new woman had named the baby Thomas, and that was all it took for the  
lot of them to smile when they saw the wee lad. (And he was quite beautiful to boot.)  
Jimmy spent no more time than the rest of them, really, doting on him.  
But still....

 

“And then,” she prompted.  
Daisy Parker wasn't the mother of twins for nothing, hadn't read every facial twitch or lowered glance with precision on her Davey's face as he got into and out of scrapes.

Jimmy was up to no good.  
“I'm not up to no good,” he said, as though he could see her flipping through his thoughts like a paperback novel.  
“It's just...well, if you must know, I left Thomas a present in his room. His birthday, in case you forgot.”

 

Daisy snorted slightly.  
Of course she'd remembered, stupid man.  
She'd remembered. Phyllis had remembered. Anna had remembered.

(Joe Miller would certainly have remembered.)

That's why she'd been watching him so closely, making sure he'd kept in bounds, where Thomas wouldn't be hurt.

“And you couldn't give it to him in person? It'll cause some sort of uproar when you'd see him later at cards?”

 

“I'd not cause Thomas trouble!”  
This came out strongly enough. And truthful sounding enough, really it did.  
Daisy nodded. 

“Course not,” she said, finally, letting her hands fall to her sides, softening her glance. “You'd never.  
At least not intentionally.”

 

“I just didn't want to look soppy,” Jimmy said reasonably.  
He was walking a fine line, wanting to keep his friend and wanting to explore something more.  
(But Jimmy'd left his returning far too late for that to ever happen now.  
  
Thomas had Joe, now.)

“Hmmm,” Daisy said, nodding and reaching out to pat his arm with a calloused hand.  
“I've tea in the kitchen if you've time before going out with the boys for cards.”  
Her tone was sympathetic, her understanding complete.

 

“And biscuits?” Jimmy pushed, grinning. 

“Cheeky beggar,” she retorted automatically.  
“But, yes, I've biscuits, too, and I'll even tell you how we women plan to surprise our birthday boy, when we have him All Alone to ourselves.  
Anna Bates has quite the devious mind.”

 

Jimmy nodded, glad.  
Barrow'd had more than enough birthdays without celebrations.  
He deserved as much attention as he could handle.  
(In small doses. And in private circumstance, of course.)


	2. Chapter 2

John Bates was staring at him and smiling over the card table.  
He wasn't used to Bates staring at him at all, much less with that inscrutable smile.

“Good hand, Mr. Bates?”  
“Wouldn't you like to know, Thomas,” he returned, mildly enough. 

Barrow held his tongue, then, tried not to be spikey, not just because Bates didn't deserve it (he was only staring), but also because Thomas realized he was more put out with the way the day had gone than with Bates himself.

 

It was supposed to be his half day, after all.  
They planned the card games for his half day.  
And here he'd spent the morning on errands, the afternoon trying to get the village girls to clear up adequately for impending guests. 

Phyllis did an excellent job on most duties as housekeeper, truly.  
But in the ticking off of errant maids, she took just too gentle a hand.  
(How had Mrs. Hughes handled it, so maternal and yet so demanding?  
Barrow lacked her finesse and Phyllis lacked her strictness,  
and a result, sometimes things fell a bit short.)

They'd needed Anna, who could be both tough and gentle, but she was somewhere out.

 

Barrow grimaced.  
“Bad hand? Bates inquired, still smiling.  
“Bad leg?” Thomas said back without thinking, causing Jimmy to snort a bit of ale through his nose. 

Infantile.  
Thomas was acting infantile.  
“I apologize,” he muttered.

“Mark the date on that,” Sam said, motioning for two more cards. 

“One,” motioned Bates, grinning now, having rattled Barrow some.

 

“Tired are you?” asked Joe as he placed his bets, and a raised eyebrow was the only indication of what he'd meant,  
how Thomas might be tired from an impromptu visit the night before.

Thomas grinned then, himself. Two small pink places beginning to show on his cheeks.  
Careful, now. The others couldn't suspect. (They all suspected.)

“Any food around?” Jimmy said, by way of diversion.  
(He was hungry, not jealous, dammit.)

 

“I've not only my usual fare, but also something Daisy sent down to add to the feast.  
“Don't know why she'd send a cake, but it looks quite good, it does.”  
Joe waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

He'd restrained himself from adding candles, not wanting the fire brigade to have to visit.  
Not wanting Thomas upset with him, embarrassed by him, ever.

“Well, as the French woman said, let us eat cake,” and Sam threw down his cards,  
winning the pot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the soppy conclusion.....

He'd wanted to stay, really.  
Wanted to send them all home and spend another night at the keeper's cottage with Joe.

But circumstance dictated that he needed to place duty first.  
Thomas always put professional duty first, even when no one noticed.

(Had Bates really needed to prompt him? Had Joe really needed to agree?)

 

Thomas grumbled his way up the path,  
then grumbled some more, seeing a crack of light around the door.  
Wouldn't want that fool Moseley turning them in when he did his Warden's walk later that night. 

The key didn't seem to fit, or rather something seemed to be blocking the door.  
And a giggle echoed faintly from behind it, prompting him to curse maids and hall boys who couldn't keep hands to themselves. 

(Why couldn't people at Downton cease pairing off? Or, perhaps, why couldn't he manage more than an occasional night of 'pairing' himself?)

 

He pushed harder, almost growling then.  
“You'd best let me in,” he was muttering, pushing the handle this way and that.  
The weight moved and he stumbled through, righting himself with a snarl.

 

To see Daisy.  
Daisy?

“Why're you still here?” he said, making a bit of a turn in his emotions, tamping down the anger, coming up with something akin to fear.  
“Is everyone all right?”

 

But she looked smiling enough, wouldn't look like that if there was a  
telegram from the front line.  
“Everyone's fine, silly,” she said, but she felt a bit guilty then, not realizing that it would be his first reaction, though it would have been hers, too. 

“Silly old me,” he muttered, but then eyes widened as Phyllis came out, smiling, followed by Anna. 

 

(So that's why Bates was such a pillock, Thomas thought. There's some game afoot.)

“We've a visitor, Mr. Barrow,” Anna Bates said, laughter in her voice.  
(When she was happy her voice sounded like music, Thomas thought. Bates was a lucky man.)

“We've lots of visitors. Are they already come?” Thomas said, his butler voice firmly back in place, pretending indifference  
for why they were smiling, but following the group through the door. 

 

To where his mother sat in the rocker he usually claimed for himself.  
Thomas stood still, not sure of how to respond.  
Frozen in place.  
“And we've bits and bobs, besides,” Daisy said, coming up to stand beside him, leaning in so they were shoulders touching. 

"Didja think we forgot?"  


“We thought we could arrange a visit to add to the festivities,” Phyllis added, petting his arm slightly, as though he was a cat.

 

“I'm a secret,” his mother said, getting up, grinning broadly.  
With a Barrow smile so much like his own.  
And he moved in one great step to wrap his arms about her. 

“I'm a secret,” she insisted. “Don't let the toffs know so I get moved to some fancy room up front with doilies.”

 

Anna laughed then.  
Thomas looked flummoxed.  
Oh, how Anna Bates loved a prank. (It's where her son Clarey got it, after all.)  
“I'll drive her back in two days on my half day,” she said, as they all guided the man to a chair.

 

Soft hands soothing him.  
Bringing tea.  
Smiles prompting him to open presents.  
“Happy birthday, Thomas,” Daisy said, grinning.

Phyllis nodded.  
“And thank you to Mrs. Barrow for sharing him with us all.”


End file.
